


A Yard Filled With Crows

by Okumen



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: (in one sentence), (not in the same sentence), Gen, Implications of Plane Crashes & Sex, International Fanworks Day 2021, M/M, Post-Canon, implied racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/pseuds/Okumen
Summary: Clark was always fascinated by any winged creatures, no matter size or shape, for as long as he could remember.Then, there was an air show at the palace, held to celebrate some anniversary or other, and he was absolutely enamoured with the sight.
Relationships: Clark Ibrahim/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A Yard Filled With Crows

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of an indulgent piece (though generally, all of my works are indulgent) and writing something I've never written before.
> 
> I hope I'm not too late to join IFD. Maybe it's still the 15th somewhere in the world. I tried googling it, but I am terrible at numbers. Great Pretender has just shy over 200 works total, four works with Clark, and zero (0) with Laurent/Clark. I sail my rarepair ships alone, as I tend to do.

_A long time ago, Laurent dreamt of flying away from it all. Becoming a bird, and just escaping all his problems. Debts, addictions, losses, and all that other stuff that haunted him in the night as he lay asleep with another random person next to him._

_Then he met Dorothy, and living life alongside her felt like what he imagined that freedom of flight might be._

_Until that came to an end, and his wings were clipped, choppy feathers awkwardly sticking out where the rare one still was left on broken joins._

_One day he would be able to feel that freedom again, but it would take many years before that were to happen._

Clark was always fascinated by any winged creatures, no matter size or shape, for as long as he could remember. He would catch insects in jars, and watch them flit against the glass. He could do so for hours. It disturbed his mother quite a bit, particularly when he brought in the more nasty-looking bugs, but Sam indulged him at least, even if the rest of his siblings tended to not do the same. Some mocked him for it, called it a strange hobby, or a creepy one, but he didn’t care. In the evenings, when he was supposed to be asleep, he would read any books he could get his hands on about the subject. He learned a lot about bugs and birds and any mythological winged creature, as a result.

Then, there was an air show at the palace, held to celebrate some anniversary or other, and he was absolutely enamoured with the sight. Clark snuck away from his family — trailed after by Sam who generally knew when he was up to something that might get him in trouble — changed out of the formal garb he had been forced into for the feast, and dressed like any other person. It allowed him to slip out in the crowd, unrecognizable and unnoticed, just another boy darting about. He managed to lose Sam, too, though he wasn’t particularly concerned about that. Sam usually only kept an eye out to make sure Clark didn’t injure himself too badly. He found Clark by the fence where the show planes were taking off and landing, staring with wide, wondrous eyes at the colourful machines. Even so soon after seeing a plane like those for the first time, Clark longed.

So he learned how to fly, though it took a lot of effort to convince his father to give him permission. It wasn’t like Clark had any chance of inheriting anything, so even if he were to get himself hurt, it wouldn’t really make a difference to the succession of the throne or the future of their country.

The first time that he was up in the sky, in one of those bright prop-planes, he felt like the rest of the world simply disappeared, and he was free of all thoughts, obligations, and expectations. It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

Being disowned and practically chased out of the country was a blow, but he would rather be a pilot than a prince, anyway. And the next time he started over from scratch, he had experience he could use to manage on his own, instead of relying on Sam as he always had in the past.

Nothing beat the excitement of a real race, a _real, honest, unscripted race_. And nothing else beat being in a plane, all alone, without any of that weight on his shoulders.

Maybe he had sought the same on the ground, when he tangled with women. He loved women anyway, but in that, there wasn’t that same adrenaline kick, the rush of blood in his ears and only vast, open space in every direction.

But sometimes, outside of air racing, he was dragged into the excitement of a plot. He thought he understood a bit about why the people that conned him and his brother out of everything in Singapore were doing what they did. It was a thrill, to do something dangerous, and at the same time to do something that was kind of good. He had done a lot of bad in the past, biggest of all convincing Lewis to race him for real, that accursed day in Australia. Racing had lost some of its shine the day of that terrible accident, in Clarks eyes.

He was still rebuilding his career, creating a new network for himself uninfluenced by his brothers machinations. It was strange to know that a group of con artists helped him in finding his bearings properly in that world again.

He still hadn’t lost his interest in the winged creatures he had been so enraptured with as a child, though as he had become able to take to the sky himself, he felt a little differently about them. A sort of kinship, that he imagined that everyone who had felt the air flow around them so closely must share.

When trapped on land during days where it was too dangerous to fly, because of the temperature or the weather, he sought out butterfly gardens, parks, even pet shops, if he had no other option. He was too much on the move to be able to keep a pet, but he enjoyed imagining waking up to the flutter of wings in the morning, or the rustling of tall grass moved by wind.

A former prince sitting on a park bench feeding ducks and pigeons was probably a thought many would find strange, though.

Still, neither Laurent nor Abbie seemed surprised to find him bundled up past his nose by a creek in the Liverpool winter. He blinked up at the cheerful “Bonjour~” that clearly was aimed at him, and looked between them. Abbie was wearing quite thick clothing as well, a puffy jacket on and her scarf covering her mouth, but Laurent was almost looking like he was dressed lightly, in a tan coat and his scarf much more loosely hanging around his throat, looking more like a fashion statement than a need.

Clark grinned at them, though he still was surprised. “Oh, hey. Didn’t expect seeing you guys here.” Last Clark heard, they were running all over the Americas for some stint. Abbie huffed, as outgoing as ever, and scuffed at the snow-covered ground with her fuzzy boot. Laurent, meanwhile, dropped down on the bench beside Clark, with the easy grace he usually wore like a second skin. He placed one arm on the backrest, and nearly brushed more than just the briefest of unintentional touches against Clarks back. He could barely feel it, through all the layers. “Isn’t it my duty as your sponsor to keep tabs on your well-being?” the blond chimed, his voice smooth. Then he added, with a laugh. “I knew you were in town, but not that you were here, exactly.” Behind her scarf, Abbie sniffled at the cold.

“I heard you got second place, your last race.” The tone in her voice was a calm one, making it nothing but a neutral statement. Not an accusation, nor a compliment. Clark laughed at the familiarity it brought. He felt strangely at home, with the people that ripped him off years prior. “Yeah, I felt I could have made it a bit of a closer call, though. You watch my races, Abbie? That makes me happy!” She scoffed

“No, I just heard about it from that annoying virgin.”

“We watch all together sometimes, when we have the chance,” Laurent chips in, completely revealing Abbies lie. “And Abbie, you’ve slept with Edamame, you should know he’s not a virgin any more.”

“He still acts like it, so I’m still gonna call him that.”

Laurent laughed. Clark, too, felt in a good mood. He may have an interest in Abbie that’s a bit beyond professional, but he was not the jealous type. And he was happy to see them, even if he was freezing his butt off

His gaze flickered over toward Laurent, when the man spoke again. “We’re staying not far from here, if you’d like something warm to drink.”

“Do I look like I need it?” Clark wondered, a smile on his face that spilled over into his voice.

“You look like you’re gonna turn into an icicle,” Abbie helpfully informs him. She was probably right. He felt like he might.

Laurent stood, again, too smoothly for someone so lightly dressed in such cold weather. Europeans seemed built for the colder climate, Clark thought. A hand was offered to him, and it surprised none of them that his movements were stiff when he got to his feet. Clark wished he could feel Laurents body heat through the gloves.

He felt himself blush at the unbidden thought, and was glad his face was more or less entirely covered up, and that he was already flushed from the cold. Clark may have more than a professional interest in Clark, too. But where he knew Abbie had no such interest in him and accepted that, he could recall Laurent flirting with him in the past. Not that it meant anything. Laurent was simply that type of person. _“That’s what those blasted french are like, don’t read into it,”_ Sam might have said, if it was something that Clark would ever talk to his brother about. Which he wouldn’t. They hadn’t talked in months, their relationship still strained since Singapore.

When Laurent hooked arms with both him and Abbie, in such a casual fashion, Clark felt warm. He felt a little breathless, in the same way he would before his planes starting wheels lifted from the ground. A surge of excitement, and a promise of flight.

_Laurent felt warmth on his lips, a breath and touch, and he curled a hand in short hair as a soft hand cupped the back of his neck. Perhaps, he thought, freedom after a disastrous fall was finding anothers wings to carry you._

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
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